


colliding galaxies

by canvases (oilpaints)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 20:47:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10369080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oilpaints/pseuds/canvases
Summary: “I made a promise, once, that I’d never fall in love,” he says. “Then you had to come along and ruin everything.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> hello, hello! i wrote this a while back and kind of don’t really like it, but the kawagata tag is so empty and i love the ship too much ;; (i’m on [tumblr](https://floralwreaths.tumblr.com) if you wanna talk about them!)
> 
> i seem to be incapable of writing a kawagata fic without space metaphors, and we just started our astronomy unit in school, so they’re all over the place, aha. the title is on [interacting galaxies](https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Interacting_galaxy), if you’re curious. anyway, read on!

 

 

 

**a promise**

At seven years old, Kawanishi promised not to fall in love.

His cousin lived next door, in a yellow house with a blooming flowerbed that he liked to pick blossoms from.  He’d been arranging a crumpled bouquet of wildflowers and tucking them into an old milk bottle when she burst in, sobbing. It was so strange to see her without her sunny smile that he frowned from where he was sitting on the counter by the kitchen sink.

He hopped off and tugged at her sleeve hesitantly, clutching his makeshift bouquet tightly in his mud-stained fingers. “What’s wrong?”

She sniffled, brushing her tears away with the back of her hand. She smiled weakly, a watered-down version of her usual grin, and pulled away from his mother, who was patting her back gently. “Hey, Taichi-kun?”

“Yeah?” he asked, tilting his head. He handed his flowers to her, and her eyes lit up. His mother had smiled at him softly, and he knew he did the right thing.

“Promise me never to fall in love,” she had said, but he could tell she was joking, just a bit. She touched his hair and held out her little finger. “I can’t think of anyone who would deserve you, you know?”

He shrugged and said, “Okay,” because he didn’t see the point of romance at the moment, anyway.

He took her finger, and promised, not knowing he would break it. Again and again and again.

 

 

 

**how he breaks it**

At fifteen years old, Kawanishi broke both that promise and his finger.

He was still in his first year, and all it took was a block gone wrong to knock his bones out of place. He flinched at the sudden searing pain flooding his little finger, but he bit his lip to smother the rest. _Volleyballs could be just as explosives as stars_ , he mused, especially if their wonder ace was the one spiking it. Complaining would take him nowhere, and he knew that. Words couldn’t heal bone and flesh.

Yamagata was the first to notice, because he was positioned behind him at the time and saw everything. “Are you okay?” he shouted, alarmed when Kawanishi clutched his wrist and doesn’t move. The game stopped.

“I’m fine—”

“Nonsense!” Coach Washijou yelled from the sidelines. He walked over to inspect his hand. “Go to the infirmary, boy. You”—he nodded at Yamagata, who was the closest at the moment—“come with him.”

And so, Yamagata ushered him to the nurse’s, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Does it hurt a lot?”

He grimaced. There was something so sincere in his tone that he couldn’t help but tell the truth. “ _A lot,_ ” he admitted, and Yamagata had frowned, eyebrows creasing in concern.

“Stop moving it,” he’d said, voice soft as they waited for the nurse to finish checking up on her current patient. They were sitting on the benches outside. “Here,” he said, and took his hand with an unspeakable sort of tenderness, holding his wrist to keep him still, his index finger pressed along his heartline.

His breath caught in his throat. This was not the time for falling. Never was the time for falling. Still, the sunset reflected in Yamagata’s wide, warm eyes and turned the dark flecks golden, and he gave in.

 

 

 

**again**

At sixteen years old, Kawanishi thought that this dumb crush would be gone already, but it was just as stubborn as the person behind it.

Yamagata insisted that he was fine, but he was sick, and they all knew it. All their other teammates and friends had shoved him back into bed whenever he tried to get up. 

Kawanishi decided to visit after class. Yamagata’s bronze skin had lost some of it’s pallor, and his cheeks were flushed. “You’re shaking. Why do you have a blanket, senpai?” he asked as soon as he got in.

Yamagata coughed out a laugh. Kawanishi grimaced. “You said so yourself,” he said, voice hoarse. “I _am_ shivering.”

“That’s your muscles trying to create heat,” Kawanishi said, almost robotically as he tugged the blanket off his body. “You’re sweating, see?”

“Kawanishi, thanks for”— _cough_ —“checking up on me and all, but I don’t want you to catch a cold.”

“I have a good immune system,” he said blankly. “And a mask.”

“I’m not _dying,_  no need to worry so much.”

Kawanishi sighed. “I’m not worrying.” _Practice was really dull without you and I haven’t been able to spend time with you lately._ “Please go to sleep. You need rest.”

“Fine, okay, alright—I’ll take a nap.”

He pulled out a book from his bag and waited silently. He skimmed along the lines, picking out interesting pieces of dialogue and reading them aloud in a soft voice, then moved on to reciting his favourite parts.

Once he heard quiet snoring, he smiled softly and stood to take his leave—but not before catching a glimpse of Yamagata’s face. He looked serene under the afternoon light, oil-black lashes curled over his cheeks and lips parted slightly.

He was quite possibly more interesting than any star in the solar system. Probably because Kawanishi knew all about them, and Yamagata was _right there,_ always a constant, and he couldn’t help but orbit him.

 _Well,_  Kawanishi thought, smiling faintly and stepping out the doorway. Just like stars, he’d settle for admiring him from afar.

 

 

 

**and**

 

“Hey, Taichi, is that you? You never call your old cousin anymore! What’s up?”

_“You’re only in your twenties. And I came to apologize.”_

“Whatever about? You haven’t turned into a trouble maker, have you?”

_“Uh, no? But do you remember when you made me promise never to fall in love?”_

“I was joking! Wait—don’t tell me you’ve broken it? Who is she, Taichi?”

_“I’m joking, too. I mean . . . just felt like I should tell you. You said that no one would ever deserve me, but I feel I don’t deserve . . . him.”_

“Oh,” she says, smiling softly, and she presses her phone closer to her ear. “Well, look at you, all grown up—”

_“I’m only seventeen. Can you please tell me what to do?”_

“Well, I suppose you should tell him.”

_“Is that it?”_

“I should think so.”

_“Oh.”_

 

 

 

**again**

At seventeen years old, Kawanishi knows this feeling all too well.

Second year of highschool, and they’re breaking a rule that everyone does. You’re never allowed to sleep at a dorm other than your own, but here they are anyway, lying on Kawanishi’s bed and staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars taped to the walls of his room. They glow faintly, subdued spots of blue and green littering their own little galaxy. He’s never felt safer, like he’s floating in space and time is a concept.

“Is that a constellation? It looks familiar,” Yamagata says, voice hushed as he points to the ceiling. Kawanishi tries not to stare, because the other boy a galaxy in his own right, and gravity was about to make them collide.

Kawanishi shakes his head and laughs just as quietly as Yamagata spoke. Nobody wants to stir the moment. “Yeah, it’s Aries. I think it’s my star sign.”

“What about that one?”

He hums and rolls over. “It’s a pretty recent addition, actually.”

“Huh?” Yamagata turns on his side to look at him properly. Kawanishi blinks at the faint gleam in his eyes, at the neon glow of plastic stars. “What is it?”

“Aquarius,” he says, heart on his sleeve. “It’s yours.”

“Oh. That’s cool.” Yamagata nudges him, grinning. “Thanks for including me in your galaxy, Kawanishi.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he says, feeling like he’s suspended in air. “I like you a lot, after all. You kind of just belong.”

They both stop to stare, stunned. “Wait, do you like—you mean—I mean—how long—”

Kawanishi’s eyes widen when he realizes what he just confessed, before settling into the softness of his blankets and nods, slight. “Of course I do,” he says, softly. “As for how long, I think—how long have I known you?”

Yamagata laughs incredulously.

“I made a promise, one, that I’d never fall in love,” he says. “Then you had to come along and ruin everything.”

Yamagata does that laugh again. “I’m sorry? If it’s any comfort, I fell in love that day when you came and read to me while I was sick. I kinda realized that I could, y’know, listen to you forever. I liked you before that, though.”

“That’s cheesy.”

“This whole scene is cheesy!”

Kawanishi presses his lips together. “So, uh—”

“Can you just kiss me already? Been waiting a year, here.”

“I’ve been waiting longer,” he says with a quiet chuckle. Yamagata punches him in the shoulder lightly, eyes gleaming brighter than any star in the milky way. “I’m just kidding. I’d love to,” he adds, quieter, and he receives the softest of smiles in return.

He leans in, and Yamagata meets him halfway.

 


End file.
